


Mother Moon

by 100percentfluffster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (as it should be), And they go back, End of Times, M/M, Stiles and Lydia are the last ones standing, Strong Stiles & Lydia friendship, Time Travel Fix-It, To hopefully fix everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 05:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20902223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100percentfluffster/pseuds/100percentfluffster
Summary: The Ley Lines are breaking and the supernatural world is crumbling away. Stiles and Lydia are the only ones still standing and they've failed everyone around them. But maybe there's another chance waiting for them.ORA poetic end of times drabble about Stiles and Lydia as they're dying. Or do they?





	Mother Moon

Stiles winced as he felt the Ley Lines crack even more. He could feel and hear the agonized shouts of the supernatural world all around him as they echoed through the Ley Lines and into his mind. He couldn’t imagine what Lydia herself was going through, so much death and pain striking through her like a lightning rod. 

Lydia. Stiles shook his thoughts free and scrambled the few feet over to her side. Her eyes were blank as she stared up into the treetops of the crumbling Preserve and Stiles’ breath caught for a moment. A few seconds of silence told him she was still breathing. Stiles placed a hand on her chest and began funneling what power he had left into her body. 

Derek was already gone. His body far off to the left littered in claw marks and bites. He had bled out before the real fight had begun. Grief hit Stiles in a distant but devastating way that he pushed into the corner of his mind where Peter lay as well. Stiles had to focus on who he had left. 

He pushed even more of his Spark energy into Lydia and her eyes seemed to clear a bit but she was barely breathing and he could feel her body shutting down in the same way his own was. The Ley Lines were sucking at his magic and leaving him weak-limbed and weak-willed. 

He had no idea this could even happen. The Nemeton was powerful, yes, but he hadn’t known that the Ley Lines were so bound to it. He should have. Magic is about bonds. With the destruction of the Nemeton, the Ley Lines couldn’t hold and without the Ley Lines, the supernatural world, individuals, packs, covens, nests everywhere would wither away with nothing to support them. 

Stiles looked at the smoke on the air beyond the trees and couldn’t come to terms with the fact that his home was gone. Beacon Hills had fallen to the Earth in ashes and blood. His home gone. What remained of his family dead. He would follow soon after he had no doubt. His Spark would be drained and he’d be left with no strength left. He’d pass into death along with Lydia. 

Another almighty crack resonated through the land around him and every bone in his body as a thick Ley Line broke and shattered into pieces. He cried out as the agony lanced through his body but he kept pushing what he had into Lydia. If there was any chance of them getting through this, they would do it together or not at all. Just as they’d promised months ago when they realized things were going to go bad. 

Stiles turned sluggishly to see if he could even see Scott’s body from here. Was Deaton still alive? He snarled at the thought and then grinned weakly. Peter would have been so proud of that snarl. Very wolf-like. 

Stiles fell to his side, barely able to keep his hand on Lydia’s chest. He missed Peter. It’d been a long six months without him. Fighting a war that he didn’t understand. Losing battle after battle because he didn’t know who they were fighting. If only they’d known, they could have stopped all of this. Peter and Derek would still be alive. Allison would still be here. Maybe his dad wouldn’t hate him. Scott wouldn’t have gone insane. 

Stiles turned away and fell onto his back. He could vaguely hear Lydia’s rattling shallow breaths and it wasn’t exactly comforting but it was better than nothing. He swallowed down bile and looked up into the sky at the full moon above them. Seemed fitting. It all started on a full moon, it would all end on one too. 

Another crack of the Ley Lines and Stiles bit his lip and split skin as pain wracked his body. Lydia twitched weakly next to him. He pressed his fingers into her shirt to make sure he didn’t let go of her. “Lydia?” he whispered to the air. There was no response.

The moon was bright tonight, brighter than he’d ever seen it. It was beautiful and the light of it made his skin tingle. Some of his pain fell away and Stiles hoped it was almost over. He was so tired of fighting and losing. Immense power at his fingertips and he still couldn’t save anyone. 

The moonlight picked him up from the ground and he grasped desperately for Lydia, refusing to be separated. There was a light chuckle on the wind and then Lydia was rising with him. Up up up and into the sky. The moon grew and grew until he was looking into the face of a gently shining woman. He blinked exhausted eyes at her and wondered what this meant. He heard another crack beneath him but it was far away and the screams in his mind and body were distant. 

“Hello, little one, I have an offer for you, my Spark,” murmured a voice in his mind. The face before him hadn’t moved but the voice was still undoubtedly hers. It was deep and rumbling yet as light as the shine of her face. “The world has taken my children from me and I want them back.” 

“Children?” Stiles asked, he was losing sensation in the hand that was clutched to Lydia from how strongly he had curled his fingers into her clothing. He barely noticed it and continued looking up at the moon. 

“I am Mother Moon, little one. I have many children who find their power in me, but I have favorites. The wolves have long kept me company in the sky. Their howls bring me strength and comfort.” 

“Werewolves?” 

“Yes, yes. That is what you call them. They are dying now, the Ley Lines no longer anchoring our power to this world.” 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles managed to choke out through the grief in his own chest. “I tried, I didn’t know what I was fighting.” 

“I know, I know. But you will this time.” 

“This time?” 

Stiles jerked in place and his eyes locked on Lydia. Her question was still humming in the air around him and he smiled in a relief that he’d never felt so acutely. “Lyds?” he mumbled as he finally let go of her shirt so he could twine their fingers together. 

She gave him a weak smile and her eyes were haunted but she was still there. Hearing more than the screams of the dying. “This time?” Lydia asked again, her eyes moving from Stiles, in jerking jagged movements, over to the Moon. 

“I will send you back, both of you back, and you will fix this,” Mother Moon said into their minds. Her face was intent, though her lips remained nonmoving. Her eyes were gentle and creased around the edges with an emotion close to amusement but not so frivolous. “I name you my champions, but champions do nothing for free. To give an assignment such as this with nothing as recompense is a mistake I have not made for centuries. So tell me, champions, what do you desire?” 

Stiles and Lydia looked at each other again and no words were needed. They’d spoken enough of their regrets for a lifetime. Lydia cleared her throat and she looked more present than she’d been so far as she said, “We don’t just want to save the wolves and the Nemeton. We want to save all our friends and family.” 

“All of them,” Stiles repeated mindlessly. They’d suffered so many losses and they’d forced themselves to move on, but those wounds never closed. They only festered in the exhaustion and the forced silence. Peter’s face flashed behind his eyes even as he felt another Ley Line break into ash beneath them. 

Mother Moon smiled like she’d known their answer before they’d spoken and perhaps she had. Stiles didn’t care, he just wanted to fix things. “So be it,” she replied silently with a warm smile. Then Stiles was falling back to Earth, Lydia’s hand crushed in his as he fell. She was screaming next to him but he didn’t know if it was a result of the fall or the death below and around them. The stars flashed around them as they fell and Stiles felt as if he was falling but flying at the same time. The Moon never strayed far and time stopped ticking by. He felt old and decrepit one moment and then blind and small the next. He smelled the bite of winter air and then the blossoms of spring, though there were only stars anywhere he looked. He was being compressed and stretched out to each light in the sky and all the time he was falling. 

The only constant he had was Lydia, her hand in his, her scream keeping the death at bay from his mind, and her life force tethering to his. Another binding to add to his collection. Deaton would be furious. 

Then it stopped and he felt the breath rush out of him as his back collided heavily with something very very solid. He blinked and looked up at a ceiling, no moon or stars in sight. Lydia’s hand was still wrapped in his but under the other hand he felt smooth wood. He blinked a couple more times before he managed to find the strength and will to turn his head toward Lydia. He found sharp eyes already boring into his, that distant death echo missing and her normal shrewdness returned. 

“What the fuck?!” a voice shouted to their left. Stiles pulled Lydia close to him as they both turned to look at a middle-aged woman. She was beautiful and strong looking and though neither had seen her before they immediately recognized her. 

“Talia Hale,” Lydia said breathlessly. 

Talia was wearing sleep pants and an oversized shirt that was presumably her husband’s. She held a cup of spilled tea in one hand and the other was pushing tangled hair away from her face. Stiles laughed, short and ecstatic and quiet, but he felt Lydia quivering with excitement in his arms as well. Mother Moon had sent them back, far enough to fix everything. 

“Who are you?” Talia demanded. There was the sound of hurried footsteps down the hall.

Peter and another man Stiles didn’t recognize turned the corner and sped to Talia’s side. Stiles sat up, Lydia following suit next to him, and he dangled his legs over the side of the table like a child. Stiles couldn’t tear his gaze away from Peter. He looked lighter, he didn’t hold that same tension of constant grief and rage that Stiles was so used to. 

“What’s the date?” Lydia asked her tone even and in control. 

Peter rattled off the day, month, and year with his eyes still locked on Stiles. A visible shiver ran down the wolf’s spine as Stiles smiled wide and uninhibited, in a way he hadn’t for years, and said, “Two weeks. We have two weeks to stop the end of the Hale line and save the world.” 

Stiles finally looked away from Peter to look at Lydia who was also smiling with perfect shining teeth and a bloodthirst in her eyes. “We’ve done far more with much less.” 

“Who  _ are you _ ?” Talia demanded. 

“My name is Stiles.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of an idea than a story.   
If anyone wants to steal this idea and write something for it, you're free to. I might add a couple more chapters, but I don't have a concrete idea of where I want it to go, will take suggestions. It's been sitting on my computer for like five months and I really like it, so I figured I'd post it.   
Hope it was good reading, and I wish you all the best.


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